An Open Letter
by s1ncer1ty
Summary: A short but ultimately sweet shonen-ai series centering around a fight between Jou and Yamato. The first two 'chapters' are in letter-form, with a sniffly resolution at the end told from both Jou's and Yamato's POV. For starsnake-san! o.o
1. Open Letter

** Well, for this fic, I'm not going to give any warnings regarding couplings, content, etc. Why? Because it'll ruin the ending. I like it remaining ambiguous until the end. If you're that hard up for warnings, either don't read this, or just pretend it ended differently. It's not so bad that you need a babysitter. Anyhoo, I wrote this up in about an hour or so, and I think I may add a second bit to it eventually For now, enjoy the ambiguousness. o.o

* * *

An Open Letter

Dear Jou --

Over the past two years of living together, a pattern has emerged. Nearly every day for the past 730 days has brought the same, stable, solid relationship. One would think that someone like me would get tired of stability, possibly wanting to move on to someone more unpredictable. No, in my eyes you are what truly keeps me sane... and alive. I have enough trouble keeping my own mind on more than one situation -- why would I want to subject myself to someone similar to, if not worse, than me?

Every day I watch you scurry about the house at 6:00 a.m. as you get ready for your classes at the University. There are days I wish I could sleep in, but I treasure every moment I spend with you, and throughout your studies, they've become fewer and further between. I gaze, sleepy-eyed, as you dash about the entire apartment, always too hurried for your own good. When I can, I make you breakfast, but usually the most I can do is make sure you promise to at least stop at a vending machine near the train station and eat a little something.

Every morning, you scurry out the door, and I prepare for my own day. No, I'm not so dependent that I can't find myself happy without you. I do enjoy the time I spend alone -- everyone needs that time in order to stay sane, I believe. But there is something of a void throughout my day, an emptiness that can't be filled until you return to the apartment, usually well into the recesses of the night. I'm not saying this void is necessarily good or bad -- it's just empty. I miss you, but I can survive my day without you. You give me something to look forward to at the end of every work day, my reward for diligence.

Every evening, I cook you supper -- rice balls, tempura, clear soup, anything I know you'll enjoy and that we can afford on our tight budget. You always look so tired when you get home, but I know you're happy, especially this semester while you've been interning in pediatrics. I already feel like a little Japanese housewife, only without a frilly apron or my hair in dutiful buns.

Every night, I draw us both a hot bath. We scrub ourselves down before entering the scalding water. I know it takes you some time to get used to it, but you patiently put up with my yearning for the hottest water imaginable. When you lean against me, my arms curled around your bare body, there's nothing I enjoy more than feeling your chest rise and fall as you breathe. Like children, we dress each other in our pajamas when we're done; on summer nights, we forego the clothing altogether and simply wrap one another into soft, terry robes.

Every night, just before bed, you brush your hair carefully and draw it into a loose ponytail, because it annoys you to have it in your face at night. You go over your caseload for the next day, and then you begin the ritual of taking your medications. Allegra if it's spring, NyQuil if it's flu season, and, as always, the steroid inhaler to keep your asthma from acting up. You sit with your back to me, as if ashamed, but I always watch you carefully -- even when you think I may be writing in my journal, or reading the latest horrorbook by King. The others would have made fun of you, but I remember the nights in the digital world over ten years ago when I'd wake up in the middle of the night to you straining for breath. You only had an emergency inhaler at the time, and you were scared it would run out, so you'd forego using it unless absolutely necessary. Let me tell you, Jou, those nights petrified me. I was always afraid one day I'd wake up, and you'd be unconscious -- or worse. The others might have laughed at you, made fun of you, but I understood all too well, being allergic to cats, myself.

Maybe that's what endeared me to you in the first place -- you were always sensitive, but beneath it all you were the strongest of us all. None of us would have ridden that unicorn with the black gear in its back. None of us would have stayed more than two minutes at that diner out of duty to pay a past-due check. None of us was as stable, as sensible, as brave as you. Throughout it all, although you complained, you barely cried while the rest of us fell to pieces. You kept your true despair to yourself.

There were plenty of times when you'd comforted me, dried my tears over some small mishap or another. You held me when my brother moved to England, when I lost my first love, when my father passed away. But never did I have the chance to reciprocate. You always held your grief in, or at least you didn't let it out when I was around.

So maybe that's why I was so terrified to find you home all too early from work, sitting on the closed toilet seat in the bathroom and crying. You told me that your brother, your 'Niichan, Shin had disappeared in the forests of Brazil weeks ago while he was in the midst of his missionary work, and he was presumed dead. I watched as the tears poured down your face, stripped naked of your glasses, and you turned to me for comfort. Comfort I couldn't give.

I don't know what possessed me, but all I could do was walk away. It tore at me deep inside to leave you there, to hear your sobs echoing down the hall as I took out the vegetables for supper. I worked like a machine as I prepared supper and listened to you cry, my feet rooted to the floor. Suddenly, after two years of living together and over ten years of solid friendship, my rock was no more. I felt as if my world had been wrenched from my feet. I couldn't comfort you like I should have. When you finally came to supper, you were a zombie, and I didn't have the heart to get you to eat. Not that you would have listened to me, anyway.

For the first night in two years, you didn't join me in the bath. You didn't run the brush through your hair or take your medication. You didn't slip underneath the covers with me for a night of lovemaking, or just to be held. Instead, you left the apartment -- out for a walk, you said. You needed to be alone, you said.

Everyone needs their alone time. I let you go. I've never regretted that decision more than I do now.

It's nearly 3:00 a.m. as I write this, and you still haven't returned. Tonight, I'll leave this note upon your pillow, and I'll pray that you return soon. I never was that great at expressing my feelings through spoken word; you've always known that, Jou. So I hope you can forgive this note -- I'd only become tongue-tied if I tried to tell you all of this in person.

Most of all, my darling, I beg your forgiveness for neglecting you in your time of need. I was afraid -- but now, I'm more afraid of losing you over a dumb mistake of my own making. You are my one and only, my life, my reliable rock in a turbulent world. Give me a second chance.

Let me be your own rock in your time of need. I love you, Kido Jou.

Always,  
I.Y. 


	2. Jou's Reply

"When I look on in your eyes,  
Then I find that I'll do fine.  
When I look on in your eyes,  
Then I'll do better.  
I was the one to let you know  
I was your sorry-ever-after."  
~ "'74-'75", The Connells

Jou's Reply

* * *

Dear Yamato,

I'm sorry that I missed you earlier this morning. It might have been better to tell you this in person, rather than writing you this note. But you seemed so peaceful, lying sprawled upon the chair in the living room. You must have waited up for me an awfully long time, and I did not want to wake you. I don't believe much would have dragged you from sleep anyway -- you barely made a sound when I carried you to bed.

I'm not completely sure where and how to begin with what I want to say. I'm not as great with words as you are. So I'll put it bluntly, Yamato -- I don't have the time nor the patience to deal with your wounded pride. I don't have the strength to soothe your hurt feelings. I'm exhausted, and I don't believe sleep will be coming to me easily.

Yamato, is it selfish of me to want to be the one comforted, for once? To be the one needing to lean upon another? You're right when you say I rarely let my true hurt show. It's something my brothers and I were taught from an early age by our father -- never break down completely, never let on exactly how vulnerable you truly are. Always have, as the Americans say, "that ace up your sleeve." No, it's not always the best advice, I know...

I suppose I just expected more from you. I expected you to be understanding when I did let my guard down. It looks as if I've assumed wrong. You claim you'll be there for me, if only I give you a second chance. What guarantee of that do I have? 

I spent last night at Shuu's apartment. I came back here this morning to get a few possessions of mine. It looks as if I'll be staying with Shuu for at least a little while -- Shin's disappearance was hard on him, though he'll never let on how much he's hurting. We need each other to lean on, in our own quiet way. The Kido way.

I will not be gone forever. You know that Shuu's apartment is just two train stops away. I do want you to be there for me. I do still love you, but my brother needs me. I need him. 

We should talk more in person, Yamato. Call me at Shuu's. I'll be waiting. 

I miss you,  
Kido Jou 


	3. Resolution

Open Letter: Resolution

"Open Letter: Resolution" by s1ncer1ty

* Notes: Jou and Yamato resolve their differences in a loverly angst-fest. Aaah. Much better. It switches back and forth between Jou's and Yamato's POV. I'm especially proud of the beginning. It's almost poetic, IMO.  
Obvious Yaoi/shonen-ai/whatever, so if you don't like that sort of stuff, don't read. :)   
And, yes, the language of Brazil is Portuguese, not Spanish. o.o *

----------

_~*~ Jou ~*~_

In the dark, quiet apartment, Shuu and I skirt our grief in silence. It's almost like a dance, the way we move about our day as if caught in some vapid, white dream, the way our eyes lock every so often in muted anguish. Every so often, one of us will part lips and draw in a swift breath, on the verge of speaking; yet, at the last second, we'll inevitably retreat from the cliff of admission and return to that silent dance. 

But then, that's always been our way. We are supportive of each other, and we do sympathize. Words aren't necessary to convey either emotion. We've barely said a word to each other since I arrived four days ago, but the silence has spoken volumes. 

It's also been four days since I last saw Yamato, four days since I heard a word from him. I understand the meaning behind his solitude, as well -- he's upset. Clearly, unequivocally upset. I don't know if this is something I'll ever be able to fix, but I don't have the strength right now to care. I'll worry later about whether or not I've ruined our relationship.

I come home from work carrying my white hospital coat over one arm and holding a paper bag with takeout from the local ramen kiosk in my hand. Shuu is on the phone, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He must be talking with the consulate in South America again, as he rarely shows much emotion at all when speaking on the phone -- for him, a lowered brow is a sign of lost temper. I don't blame him, really. No one at the consulate speaks Japanese, and neither of us know Portuguese, so we're always forced to communicate in broken, heavily accented English. Trust me, it's hardly the easiest process. 

When Shuu finally hangs up the phone, he turns his head in my direction, to where I stand in the doorway slipping off my shoes. With a sigh, he shakes his head. _Still no word on Shin. _I close my eyes briefly and nod, to indicate that I understand. 

The two of us walk to the dining room table, and I unpack the steaming, sealed cups of ramen. I place his favorite flavor of ramen before him and pass him the paper-wrapped disposable chopsticks. He stares for a few moments at the food before him before pushing it several inches away from him.

_I'm not hungry,_ the gesture seems to say.

I shake my head at him. _No, you must eat._

Shuu lets out a light sigh, toys with the flimsy, wooden chopsticks. _How can I eat when Shin might be starving to death? Or already starved to death._

I snap my chopsticks against the table, and Shuu's gaze meets my own. My eyes are hard. _It's not doing you any good to starve yourself, 'Niisan. You've barely eaten in days. It's unhealthy._

We stare at each other for a good sixty seconds. Shuu ultimately concedes, picking up his chopsticks, prodding at his hot noodles with them, and popping a few into his mouth. Of course, by now, I've lost my appetite for my own supper. My fingers shake when I try to grasp my chopsticks. 

I'm saved by the ring of the doorbell. Before Shuu can react, I push back my chair and hop to my feet. My bare feet hardly make a sound as I cross the room. Once in the doorway, I fiddle with the lock -- the one that sticks every so often -- and throw open the door.

I find myself staring face-to-face with a pair of icy, crystal-colored eyes. A soft sound escapes the back of my throat in a voice I barely recognize as my own

_~*~ Yamato ~*~_

"Yama-- Yama--" He's startled into speaking, unable to determine the appropriate honorific when he sees me. His glasses have slipped midway down the bridge of his nose, giving magnification to the bruised circles beneath his eyes. 

"Jou," I reply with a faint nod. 

"I -- You're --"

"Could I come in?" 

Coherence finally kicks in, and Jou quickly steps aside. "Yes, of course. Come in, Yamato." 

I take a few steps inside, rid myself of my shoes. "Thanks," I say softly. I glance towards the dining room, where Shuu sits with his supper, poking at it more than he's eating it. "Evening, Shuu."

Jou's older brother gives me a forced smile and a nod. "Yamato," he returns quietly. 

"Do you want something to eat or drink?" Jou asks, ever polite. "I've got some ramen. I was finished with it anyway."

I hear Shuu hiss in a sharp breath through his teeth, and Jou looks to him with a guilty expression in his eyes. I must have missed something here. The Kido brothers could definitely be weird sometimes, probably a result of their stifled, traditional upbringing. 

"I'm fine," I reply. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a small vial of pills, some minor painkillers that Jou takes when he starts to feel a migraine coming on. "You left this at the apartment. I didn't want you to get sick."

"Oh," Jou says, taking the tiny bottle and running his fingers across the label. He doesn't meet my gaze. "Thanks, Yamato. I appreciate it." 

That guilty expression remains a permanent fixture on his face, and I sigh impatiently. "Well?" I ask, my voice a soft demand for answers. Something, anything.

He lifts a hand and gestures towards the couch in the living room. "Have a seat. We should talk," he says. 

My heart pounds as I lower myself onto the plush cushions, and I lace my fingers tightly together between my knees. I know I have to keep my temper in check, especially if I want to have any hope of getting some sort of response from Jou -- my anger usually only makes him close up that much more.

"Where do we begin?" I ask, smiling wanly, hoping he sees it as a welcoming gesture.

_~*~ Jou ~*~_

I turn the bottle Yamato has given me over in my hands, hearing the dry rattle of the small pills within. It's nothing but over-the-counter painkillers, nothing I couldn't have picked up myself at the local drugstore. But I know there's more significance than Yamato simply watching out for my health -- bringing the pills over was just an excuse for him to swallow his pride long enough to approach me. 

"I've missed you, Yamato," I say, my voice thin, perhaps a little strained.

"Yeah," he whispers in concurrence. It's as close as I'll get to hearing him admit that he missed me too. "Well ... yeah." 

"I suppose you're wondering why I just packed up and left..." I begin again.

"You could say that," he says, a twinge of impatience and sarcasm in his voice. "Come on, Jou, I apologized for what I did. What more do you want from me?"

"This isn't easy for me, either, Yamato," I snap back quietly. Strong emotions intimidate me, usually bringing out an uncontrolled edge of panic in my voice and actions. I fight to keep that panic out of my words, but I can feel it rising steadily. "My brother's missing. Very likely dead. It's -- just not easy for me." 

Yamato frowns deeply, and his knuckles turn white as he struggles to keep his temper from flaring. "I understand what you're going through, Jou. Remember how insane I went in the Digital World when Takeru and I were separated?"

I shake my head quickly. "This isn't the same. Your brother had Patamon there to look after him. Shin doesn't have a partner like we did."

"Of course it isn't exactly the same," he hisses. "That doesn't mean I don't sympathize."

I nod slowly. "I understand, Yamato."

"Look at me, Jou," he mutters angrily. I turn my eyes to meet his and stare into the crystal depths that blaze with icy fire. "Why won't you open up? Accept the fact that I made a mistake, and move on. Let me help you through this."

My lips part, but the words I long to speak refuse to break past the dam of long-ingrained silence. _Never display emotion in public, never let on how vulnerable you are. _My father's voice continues to echo across my mind.

The anger in Yamato's eyes shifts suddenly, his lips sagging at the release. "Please, Jou," he asks, pleading now. "I love you."

I can't bear to watch the expression in his eyes, so I tear my gaze away. I can hardly believe how cold I sound as the words tumble unbidden from my lips. "I hope you're not expecting me to break down, Yamato, because it's not going to happen. I have no tears for you. You want to comfort me, but there's just nothing inside me to comfort right now." I can't look at him. I just can't.

"I guess that says it all, then," Yamato whispers angrily, and he pushes himself to his feet.

The phone rings, and Shuu, who'd been numbly eating his noodles as Yamato and I spoke in the other room, rushes to lift the receiver from the cradle. 

"I'm sorry," I whisper. 

"Oh, Jou..." Yamato murmurs in one last attempt at pleading, and his voice blends with that of my brother's.

"Jou? Jou, come here, please." Shuu calls quietly, calmly, from the other room.

"Excuse me," I mumble, still refusing to look at Yamato's face. Without glancing back, I hurry to the dining room to see what Shuu wants.

_~*~ Yamato ~*~_

I'm not needed here anymore. I can tell from the tone of Jou's voice, the way he won't look at me as he brushes by me. I have to get out of here, leave Shuu's apartment, before I punch a hole in the wall. My hands, clenched into fists, shake as I walk towards the coat rack. Shuu and Jou talk in hushed, composed tones in the other room, though I can't make out a word of it. 

Suddenly, Shuu rushes from the dining room, walking in swift, determined steps across the apartment. As he strides into his bedroom, he slams the door, and one of the pictures on the living room wall falls to the ground with a soft crack. 

I close my eyes, turning, and slip my coat over my arms. Whatever it is, I'm certain Jou wouldn't want me around, getting in the middle of things. As my fingers close around the doorknob, I hear a soft whimper behind me.

"Yama-chan?"

"Jou," I whisper, leaning my head for a second against the cool doorframe as I gather the strength to turn around. My anger floods from me and is replaced with an almost paralyzing fear. _Don't let this happen again. I can't run away again. Please._

I finally manage to spin myself around in place, leaning against the door for support. Jou stares back at me, his face a truly unhealthy shade of grey, his chest hitching as he struggles to breathe, as if in the throes of an asthma attack. He takes a step towards me, and his knees buckle, sending him tumbling to the ground. 

The paralysis breaks, and I run -- this time towards him. I'm not there to catch him in time as he falls, but I'm at his side in a flash to pick him up in my arms. "It's okay. It's okay. It's okay," I whisper over and over. 

Jou tears off his glasses and clutches to me tightly. I hear his breath coming in sobs as he struggles not to cry. "Yama... Y-Yama... It's Shin... S-someone ca-called..."

"Don't speak," I whisper into his ear, his breath hot against my neck. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

He whimpers again and gives in to the impending tears, his face buried hard against my shoulder. He's quiet as he breaks down, his shoulders shaking in breathless sobs. I want to cry, myself, but I bite my lower lip and simply run my fingers through his dark hair. All I can do is hold him. 

After what seems like an eternity, his tears finally taper off to shivering gasps. I pull him to his feet, my body supporting his, and I lead him to the couch. Grabbing a box of tissues, I thrust a handful into his fingers and rest the box upon his knees. He quickly wipes his cheeks, brushing away any proof of his crying fit, and blows his nose softly. 

"Better?" I whisper when I think he's finally under some semblance of control.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. "That was silly of me."

"Don't be sorry," I return. My voice turns insistent. "What about Shin?"

Jou turns to me, his eyes still red and swollen, but a weak smile spreads across his lips. "He's alive. The Brazilian consulate called. He's... he's still very sick, but as soon as he's well again, Shin is coming home."

"You're certain?" 

"Shuu managed to speak to him for a few seconds, before he was cut off." Jou begins to pile more tissues into his hands, and I can hear his voice cracking. "I'm so happy." 

I don't know whether to laugh or cry as I watch him. I slip my arm around his shoulders and he leans against me. "I'm glad for you, Jou," I whisper, lightly kissing the top of his head.

"Yama-chan? Will... you mind if I stay here a few days longer? Just until Shin gets back?" he asks meekly, as if afraid of what I might answer.

"I don't mind, Jou-chan," I mumble in return, squeezing his shoulders lightly. "Just come home soon. Please, I miss you." 

"I will. I promise."

With a small, contented sigh, Jou curls up at my side and tosses an arm across my stomach.

"Yama-chan," he whispers. "I love you." 

Smiling, I nuzzle my cheek against his perfect hair. "I love you too, darling."

_~finis~_


End file.
